Double Or Nothing
by Sarah H
Summary: An odd bet can turn enemies into more than friends. (This is my first fanfiction, and my first summary as you can tell, lol. Please R/R!)


Double or Nothing  
  
"Hey babe! What brings ya ta our side a town?" said a tall, newspaper-toting young man as he slung an arm around the girl next to him.  
"Touch me again an' I break dat arm," she spat at him.  
"Ooooh, we got a fiesty one heah fellas!" he answered loudly, much to the delight of his friends. "Dat's big tawk fer such a liddle goil."  
"Liddle? I'se 'bout as liddle as you are smart," she said, standing up a little taller to her full height, which wasn't much.  
"Den someone bettah hand me da Nobel Prize, cuz I must be a freakin' genius!"  
"You bettah leave me alone or I'se gonna-"  
"You'se gonna what? Beat me up? Call ya big bruddah?" he answered in a mocking voice.  
The girl let out an exasperated sigh and turned on her heels to walk away. She had no intention of beating the boy up because he was approximately twice her size. Considering she didn't have a brother to call on either, she decided the next best thing would be to avoid further confrontation. But the boy had other plans. He grabbed her arm, dashing all hopes of avoiding furhter confrontation. "Lemme go!" she demanded, but with a begging tone.  
"Whatcha gonna do now, babe?"  
"Just lemme go. I ain't done nothin' ta you!"  
"Let ya go? Shoah, shoah -- fer a fee. I been busy lately an' frankly I need a liddle action. Don't look at me like I'se some sicko, I ain't askin' ya fer nothin' big, just a liddle kiss. A small price ta pay, doncha think?"  
"An' what happens if I refuse ta kiss your ugly face?"  
"Well, den ya get do stuffin' beat outta ya fer trespassin'," he said plainly.  
"Yeah right! Even you wouldn't beat up a goil!"  
"Ya wanna take dat chance?"  
The girl wasn't sure that he wouldn't in fact beat her up, and she really wouldn't put it past him. As much as she didn't want to kiss him, she didn't want a black eye either. Seeing as her fighting skills were very few, she swallowed her pride, choked down her morals, and mentally prepared to pucker up.  
"So, what's it gonna be, babe?"  
"Look, dere's gotta be some oddah way..."  
"You sayin' ya don't wanna kiss me? Most goils would kill for an' opportunity like dis one," he said cockily.  
"Yeah, yeah, keep tellin' yaself dat."  
The young man looked her up and down before speaking again. When she started to squirm, he tightened his grip a little. "How 'bout dis: I'll roll ya for it, double or nothin'. Odds, I get two kisses. Evens, ya get off free. Are ya willin' ta take dat chance?"  
Knowing she was probably going to regret it later, she nodded in agreement. The boy pulled out a die from his pocket and let her inspect it. "How convenient dat ya got a die in your pocket," she muttered.  
"Yeah, well, dese types a things are always happenin' ta me. So I gotta be prepared."  
She rolled her eyes. "Well ain't you da most modest person I evah met..."  
"Runs in da family. Just look at it will ya? Although, I ain't one ta cheat. I assure ya it's real. When your done, just roll it." he said, pressing the die into her hand.  
"I'se goin', I'se goin'," she answered. She looked at it a bit, and then, fairly sure it wasn't bum, she began to roll it around in her hand, praying for an even number. The die left her hand and bounced around the ground, trying to choose a number to land on. When it finally stopped moving, it had chosen: "Five..."  
"Dat's odd!" yelled the boy with a smile.  
"No kiddin', genius," she answered wryly.  
"Pucker up, babe, cuz ya owe me double now."  
"God, I hate fives..."  
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and went in for the first of her double-kiss sentence. Their lips lingered together for about six seconds before she pulled away, deciding that was long enough. Even though it was forced, neighter one of them could say that they didn't enjoy it at. At least a little. The girl opened her eyes for a few seconds to see his reaction, then closed them again in preparation for the next kiss. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's da rush babe?"  
"Come on, I wanna get dis ovah with as soon as possible so's I can finally leave. It ain't like I'se like ta have ya holdin' me hostage heah all day!"  
"Well, I'se been thinkin'-"  
"You? Thinkin'? Dere's an oxymoron..."  
"Oxy-what? What'd you call me??" he said, getting a little angry at what he assumed was an insult.  
"No no, what ya said. An oxymoron. Two opposite things? Togethah? Nevahmind. Continue..."  
"Yeah, well, as I was sayin' b'fore I was so rudely interrupted...I been thinkin' dat I ain't quite ready fer da second kiss. I ain't in da mood."  
"I don't like wheah dis is goin'..."  
"You owe me anuddah kiss, right?"  
"Uh-huh..."  
"An' ya know it ain't right ta go back on ya woid, right?"  
"Uh-huh..."  
"So dat means ya gotta stay with me 'til I'se ready fer da next one. An' I mean stay with me always, cuz ya nevah know when I'se gonna want it."  
"Are ya jokin'? Cuz dat's just plain absoid! How d'ya know I ain't got oddah stuff ta do?"  
"Cuz you'se in da Distribution Centah. Unless ya just got a thing fer papes, you're heah ta sell 'em. An' so am I. Judgin' by da state a your appearance, ya ain't got a family, or a place ta sleep at night, or money ta spare. Like me. So you'se gonna be fine with me. Doesn't mattah what ya say anyways. Ya can't refuse."  
Her mouth dropped open and she stood in shock. How had she gotten herself into this mess? And was he really serious? Her dazed look thoroughly amused the gathering of onlooking boys. "Dis is ludicrous! You can't do dat!"  
"Watch me," said the boy, taking her hand and starting to walk. Since protesting proved futile with this boy, the girl reluctantly went along with him. In a way, she was grateful for being held hostage because at least now she had a place to stay, a job of some sort, and an acquaintance/kidnapper. The boy's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and back into reality. "So what's ya name, babe?"  
"Well, it obviously ain't 'babe'."  
"If it was, you'd have some pretty psycho parents."  
"You don't know anythin' about my parents!" she exclaimed, much to the surprise of the boy.  
"Whoa, calm down, goil! I was just jokin'! Just figured dat since we'se gonna be spendin' a lotta time togethah, I might as well know ya name."  
"Fine. It's Theresa Quinn, but call me dat an' I'll break ya legs."  
"Gee, dat's a big help if I ain't even allowed ta call ya dat. What do I call ya den?"  
"Tess. Or Quinn. But if da woid 'Theresa' evah leaves ya mouth, you'se gonna be tawkin' out da oddah end."  
"Look Quinn, your dumb threats are fallin' on deaf ears, so don't even bothah. I ain't scared a some liddle goil."  
"Well I ain't scared a you neiddah, so we'se at an undahstandin'. An' fer da last time, I ain't liddle!"  
"Oh really? Have ya looked in da mirror lately?"  
"I'se sixteen, ya know!"  
"Me too. But you're still liddle in size, Quinn."  
They walked in silence for a while, Tess pouting about her height. She was waiting for the boy to tell her his name, but she didn't see any signs of it. "Not dat I care, but what's your name? In case I absolutely hafta call on ya."  
"Glad ya asked, Quinn. Da name's Spot Conlon. Leadah a da Brooklyn newsies. At your service," he answered proudly, complete with an overly elaborate bow and flourish.  
"Wait, was dat meant ta impress me? You'se in charge of a buncha poor guys with nothin' bettah ta do den sell newpapers. Woohoo fer you. Really, dat's quite an' accomplishment, an' I feel like a bettah person just fer makin' your acquaintance," she responded, her tone dripping with sarcasm, complete with a roll of her eyes.  
"Yeah, I'd like ta see you be in charge of dem. Or anythin' fer dat mattah," he challenged.  
"Like I'd wanna be in charge of your dumb newsies. Look, what do I call ya? Your Highness? Your Majesty? Your Leadership? Loser?"  
"Well, your Highness is nice, but quite a mouthful, doncha think? Spot'll be just fine. Or Conlon, if ya so choose."  
Seein' how we seem ta be on a last name basis awready, I think I'se gonna opt fer da latter, Conlon."  
"Whatevah ya want," he answered, shrugging.  
"So, uh...wheah are we goin' anyway?"  
"Manhattan."  
"Manhattan?"  
"Geez, is dere an echo in heah?"  
"Well, what da hell are we goin' ta Manhattan for? I didn't walk all da way from Queens ta Brooklyn just ta spend da rest a me day walkin' halfway back dere! What's so important dat we gotta go dere?"  
"Just gotta show off anuddah trophy ta me pals, dat's all?"  
"Oh yeah? What did ya win a trophy for? Bein' da biggest waste a space in New Yawk? Wheah is dis so-called trophy?"  
"Walkin' next ta me."  
When Tess realized that he was talking about her, her face flushed with embarrassment and then with anger. She took his arm into her grip and stopped him from walking. "Look, Conlon, get one thing through ya head: in no way am I your 'trophy'. I ain't ya goilfriend, an' I coitenly ain't gonna put up with bein' shown off ta your stupid friends just cuz a me current situation! Dat is one thing I ain't gonna take, an' balieve me, I've taken a lotta crap. So back off," she whispered dangerously.  
Even the famous, fearless Spot Conlon was taken aback by this sudden outburst. "Right. Sorry," he said quietly, not knowing what else he could say.  
They walked the rest of the way to Manhattan in relative silence. "Sorry fer snappin' atcha back dere," Tess said sheepishly.  
"Nah, it's okay. I guess I desoived it. It's just dat most goils don't care when I tawk like dat. Dey kinda like it."  
"Yeah, well I ain't most goils."  
"No, no ya ain't." And it was true. Spot had never met another girl who talked back to him so fearlessly. Or kissed him so nicely, even under the circumstances. Truthfully, he kind of liked this challenge of a girl. He snapped out of his thoughts when they reached the front door of the restaurant they were walking to. "Well, heah we are. Da world-renowned Tibby's," he announced, opening the doors to a chorus of greetings from his fellow newsies.  
"World-renowned fer what? Cockroach infestations?" she muttered, walking through the door as he held it open.  
"Well, well, well, look what da cat dragged in," said one with a cowboy hat, but after seeing the look on Tess' face, added, "No, no, I ain't tawkin' 'bout you, sweetface! I'se tawkin' 'bout da ugly mug ya brought with ya. Conlon, long time, no see."  
"Yeah, likewise, Cowboy."  
"Who's da babe?"  
"Tess Quinn. Quinn, dis is Jack, leadah a da Manhattan newsies, an' resident ass."  
"Nice ta meetcha, babe."  
"What, do I gotta tattoo 'cross my forehead sayin' my name's 'Babe'? It's Tess ta you, not babe, got it?"  
"Sheesh, sorry sweetface- er, Tess...So, you two an' item or somethin'?"  
"No!" they both said in unison.  
"We'se just got a liddle partnership, if ya will. A business venture. A undahstandin'-"  
"We'se just friends," Tess put it simply, rolling her eyes. "So what can a goil get ta eat 'round heah?"  
"Anyone ya want!" someone yelled, causing a gale of laughter to sweep across the restaurant.  
"Hey, can it, Blink. Anuddah comment like dat an' I'll wipe dat stupid grin off ya face real fast. Heah me?"  
"Loud an' clear, Conlon."  
"Yeah, dat's what I thought. Oh, allow me," Spot said, pulling out a chair for Tess.  
"Geez, when did you become a gentleman?" she asked, a little impressed.  
"'Bout da same time I was born. Runs in da family, ya know," he answered with a smirk.  
"Shoah, shoah..." she answered, rolling her eyes again.  
"Ya know, if ya keep rollin' your eyes, dey's gonna get stuck like dat someday."  
"Thanks fer da advice, Mothah. I'll be shoah ta eat my vegetables too."  
Spot grinned a bit and sat down next to her. Once everyone had settled down and ordered their food, Jack started a conversation with Tess. Or at least attempted to start one. "So, wheah are ya from, Tess?"  
"Around."  
"Uh, okay, 'round wheah?"  
"Queens."  
"Okay...how'd ya meet Spot?"  
"Just kinda happened."  
"Got a family in town?"  
"No."  
"Whaddya like ta do?"  
"Regular stuff."  
"You always dis specific, or am I just lucky?"  
"What is dis, a freakin' interrogation? I'se tryin' ta eat a meal in peace heah. Go bothah someone else fer a while, woudja?"  
"Damn! Ya shoah you an' Spot ain't related or somethin'?"  
"An' what's dat supposed ta mean, Cowpoke?"  
"Well, ya both get pissed off ovah nothin'. Geez! An' it's Cowboy, thank you."  
"Right, right, sorry 'bout dat, Cowpie."  
"Psshh, ya can't make a pie outta a cow. How dumb can ya get?" Jack said, looking to his friends for support.  
She looked at him to see if he was serious. "Obviously not any dumbah den you..."  
"What's dat supposed ta mean?"  
"Nevahmind. Spot, can we go yet? I'se had enough a Manhattan ta last me a lifetime."  
"Yeah, I guess we oughtta head back. Cowboy, always a pleasure. See ya fellas. Me an' me goil are headin' out. Got some business ta take care of," he said snakily, smirking and winking to his friends.  
"Hey, shut up, ya scab! Foist off, I ain't your goil an' secondly, I know what you'se tryin' ta imply. Nothin's gonna happen. Evah."  
"Uh-huh, shoah. Let's just go, 'kay babe? We'll tawk business someplace else, say...my room latah?" he said, receiving some snickers and whistles.  
"You just don't know when ta stop, do ya?"  
"When did I even start?"  
"Ugh, I hate you!" she said, slapping him across the face and storming out of the restaurant in a flurry of anger.  
"Man, you shoah picked a spitfire dis time, Brooklyn. All I got ta say is good luck tamin' dat wild one!" Jack said after she was gone.  
"It's undah control, my man, undah control. See ya latah."  
Spot walked out of the restaurant and then jogged to catch up to Tess. She was walking quickly, her eyes tearing up. He put his hand on her shoulder to slow her down, but she shrugged it off and moved even faster. "Wouldja slow down? We ain't runnin' a marathon heah!"  
"I don't wanna tawk ta you!"  
"What? Look, I was just kiddin' back dere with da fellas. I didn't mean it."  
"It don't mattah if ya meant it or not, ya still said it! An' it was still embarrassin'! Now dey's all gonna think I'se some kinda tramp dat puts out easy."  
"Why da hell would dey think dat?"  
"Are you dense or somethin'? Cuz dat's exactly what ya made me out ta be! 'We got business back in my room.' What was dat about, huh?"  
"Look, dat's just how I tawk with da fellas, I toldja dat awready! Don't take it personally! Wait, are you cryin', Tess?" he asked, noticing her tears for the first time.  
"Yeah, I'se cryin'! Why? Cuz I'se pissed off, dat's why. An' confused. One second, ya defend me, an' den da next, you're makin' lewd comments 'bout me. One second I respect ya, da next, I can't stand ya. How'm I supposed ta know whethah ta like ya or hate ya?"  
"Hey, come on now, don't cry. I'se a real suckah fer tears. Look, I'se sorry if I embarrassed ya. I've always tawked like dat with me oddah goilfriends, an' none a dem evah cared before."  
"I ain't ya goilfriend."  
"I know dat, but I care 'bout what ya think a me. Even if we don't really know each oddah dat well. But I want ya ta like me, cuz so far, I like you. A lot, as a mattah a fact. An' I wanna make shoah dat I don't ruin anythin' we might have someday."  
"Ya serious?" she asked, searching his face for any signs of truth in his statements  
"A course," he answered genuinely.  
"Well, apology accepted. I guess I kinda overreacted a bit. It's just dat...no, nevahmind."  
"No, no, tell me. I wanna heah what ya got ta say."  
"It's just...me last boyfriend tawked like you. Boasted ta all his friends 'bout how far we went an' crap like dat when it nevah really happened. I nevah minded at foist, I almost like it. All a da attention, ya know? 'Til one day he an' a couple a his friends started tawkin' like dat, an' den dey made me make dere tawkin' true, if ya know what I mean. An aftah dat happened, I promised myself I was nevah gonna take dat crap again. I was   
nevah gonna be dat stupid again. Or dat weak again."  
"Look Tess, I may tawk like dat sometimes, but ya gotta know I'd nevah, evah make ya do somethin' like dat. Ya know dat, doncha? Ya may not balieve me now, aftah all I'se done an' said ta you, an' aftah how ya met me in da foist place, but I'd respect ya. Always."  
Tess look into his eyes, and said truthfully, "No, I balieve ya. Don't know why I balieve ya, but I really do. Honest."  
"Good...den I was hopin' ya'd do me a favah?"  
"Depends...what's da favah?"  
"I was wonderin' if maybe I could call in my second kiss? Only if ya wanna, a course."  
"If I wanna? I thought ya'd nevah ask," she said smiling.  
Slowly, Tess shut her eyes and waited tensely as Spot leaned in to collect his dues. They stood still for a few precious moments, lost in each other's touch. It was definitely one of those times when you feel like you've known someone for years, even if you've just met. When there's a deeper connection, that no words can adequately describe. When they finally pulled away, Spot smiled and Tess felt butterflied floating around in her stomach.  
"Well, I guess you're free ta go now, seein' how your debts are paid off."  
"Guess so."  
"Unless maybe, ya wanna stick around?"  
"Dat depends...ya gonna make me an offah I can't refuse?"  
"How 'bout dis...ya stick around an' ya get me, without da stupid, pigheaded comments."  
"Well..."  
"An' a place ta stay if I weren't enough awready."  
"I donno...dat's a pretty good offah I guess...but does it beat sleepin' on a park bench, livin' alone, an' possibly starvin' ta death with no money?"  
"I'd say so."  
"Me too, Conlon. Me too," she said, pulling him in for another kiss. His eyes widened, then shut quickly when he realized what was happening.  
When they pulled away again, he said, "Ya know, dat weren't part a da deal."  
"Yeah, so sue me."  
"I guess dat means you're gonna stay?"  
"Someone bettah hand you da Nobel Prize, cuz you'se a freakin' genius!"  
"Ain't ya just so funny..." he said, smirking.  
"Hey, I loin from da best," she added, returning his smirk.  
And with that, Spot too Tess' small hand in his and they walked back home. Together.  
  
  
THE END  
  



End file.
